the pale sky almost violet, fading inthis between hour after dinner and before bedtimeremembering

I have spent the day inside this house, alonegoing through the rooms one floor at a timelumbering methodically trying

to put all that has been moved or removed

back where it was before I left

before I knew I would ever leavebefore I knew I would have to leave

Not much has changed. Only a few thingsTime changes

I do not remember my crib even nowthat I see it stowed in the attic next to Gramma’ssteamer trunk where Christmas ornaments packedin old egg cartons and tissue paperhave been kept since she died in 1968.The painted animals on the crib are wornbarely recognizable scant remains of a blue elephantand the hingquaters of a zebra;the whole of it covered in dust.

Do I remember my highchair? my potty? the yellow bear?The yellow bear on the potty! Ballons tethered to his overallsfallen down around fuzzy ankles, balloons red yellow blue & green.I am sure I loved that bear.

flower to lick sweet and birdy looks hungry.Why are you crying, little man? Come here. What are you looking at?

The birdie? Why won’t you stop crying? You have all your nice toys.”

A man said, “Leave him be. Kids cry. That’s what they do.

You spoil them if you pick them up every time they cry.”

The door between the kitchen and dining room swings open;

“I’ll be finished soon then he’ll have his nap. You two go relax.”

The gate was supposed to be closed, not smashed up against the vine.Someone should close the gate!The honeysuckle will be smashed and brokenthere will be no sweet in Springshe will be furious if someone doesn’t close the gate“Fly away birdie! Fly away!” I scream.

I look out over Maplewood through the torn shadeCatholic churches and the bulky industry of the fortiesstand where once vast groves of maple pine poplar & cherry grew.The rust colored leaves of McMullin’s sappy maple loose their gripon the parched branches waiting for rain

beyond Albemarle & Clay streets further out awaydown Dewey Avenue the structures diminish into flatlandending at the shore of Lake Ontario. One steel smokestackat Kopdak Park on Ridge Road snatches the last glint of the sinking sun